Grissom had eventually given in to thinking and was sitting on an uncomfortable bench in the hospital corridor when Sara was wheeled out of theatre. He jumped up immediately and watched as the silent procession passed him. A doctor hung back and Grissom prevented himself from following Sara in order to hear what he had to say.

"Dr Grissom?" he queried.

"Yes," Grissom confirmed. "I know I'm not a relative but there's no one else to contact. Please can you tell me how she is?" He prepared himself for a struggle against the rules of patient confidentiality but what the doctor had to say came as a shock.

"It's alright, Dr Grissom. You're Sara's official next of kin."

Grissom was taken aback. "I am?"

"Yes. I assume you didn't know?"

"No," Grissom shook his head, struggling to comprehend how Sara could have placed him in such a position of trust and responsibility without him even knowing. Then, suddenly, he became aware once again of his priority. "So, how is Sara?"

"The operation was a success. As far is it could have been," the doctor replied. "Aside from her leg, Sara had no serious injuries and none internally. Physically she should be fine, although she'll have to stay in for observation for a few days."

"And mentally?"

"Losing a leg would be traumatic for anyone, Dr Grissom," the doctor began. "Sara is going to need a lot of support."

"What about her leg itself. What can you do?"

"There have been many advances in prosthetic limbs in the last few years. With time she should be able to do much of what she could do before. But it will take time. She will have to take part in a course of physiotherapy." The doctor smiled briefly at Grissom but he could read the meaning in his eyes. There was a long road ahead. "She is going to need you and her other friends more than ever."

The doctor left and walked down the corridor. As he turned the corner Grissom was once again left alone. The doctor's words seemed to reverberate against the sterile white walls, or were they just in his head? Grissom struggled to move from that spot. How could things change so drastically in one instant? Mere hours ago Sara had been working in the lab. Now she was lying in a hospital ward facing what was probably the greatest struggle she would ever live through.

I I I I I

It was nearly two hours before Sara finally began to regain consciousness after her operation. Grissom had been sitting at her bedside all that time. As she struggled to open her eyes, her eyelids feeling like heavy weights shutting her off from the world around her, she heard a groan rise from her dry throat although she had not meant to make a noise. Immediately Grissom was upright and reaching out for her hand.

"Sara?" he queried, concerned. She tried to look up at him but her neck was stiff although the brace had been removed. "Don't try to move, honey."

Sara felt completely disorientated. As Grissom spoke she felt her life slowly piecing together in her mind. First the basics; where she worked, her colleagues, her apartment. Then horrible flashbacks to the accident; the screams, the jolts, the horrible sounds reverberating in her ears as the car flipped over. And that peppermint wrapper. She wondered what had happened to it in the turmoil. Then she could see the face of a paramedic, but she could hear Grissom's voice. It was in that moment that his words came flooding back to her. A small whimper forced its way out of her mouth.

"It's alright, Sara, don't try to move."

She swallowed hard, hating the feeling of her scratchy throat. "The accident-" she managed to croak. Grissom tried to hush her but she could not rid her head of the words he had said to her in the car. She did not want to ask but not knowing was far more painful. "My leg."

Grissom's face paled and Sara did not need him to speak to know that a miracle had not occurred. She could not hold back the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks. Grissom did not let go of her hand until she had drifted off into restless sleep.

I I I I I

Brass appeared at Sara's bedside to find Grissom flicking distractedly through a woman's magazine whilst Sara herself slept. He gently touched Grissom on the shoulder, withdrawing his hand when his friend jumped.

"Sorry, Gil," he said quietly, keen not to disturb Sara. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Grissom put down the magazine. "That's alright, Jim. Have you been discharged?"

"Yes." Brass observed his friend. He looked exhausted although it had only been a few hours since he had left the lab. "Are you alright?"

Grissom looked taken aback by the inquiry after his health. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I'm fine. I have to be." He said. "Sara needs me."

"She needs you to be healthy, Gil," Brass said. "If you wear yourself into the ground with stress and worry then you won't be much use to her."

"I'm fine, Jim, honestly."

Before Brass had the time to protest further, a gurgle rose from Sara's throat. The two men turned to face her as her eyes shot open and she began to cough. Their faces showed panic. "Call a doctor," Grissom instructed, but Sara shook her head vehemently as the coughing seemed to subside.

"Water," she choked. Grissom gently helped her to gulp down a few mouthfuls from the cup sitting by her bed. "Thank you," she managed to say, a little more clearly once she had had a drink. As Grissom went and refilled the cup from a tap in the corner of the room, Brass gently helped Sara into a slightly more upright position in bed. Making his way back to her bedside, Grissom noted that Sara looked far more composed with a little more colour in her cheeks and less likely to start crying again.

The two men and Sara made awkward conversation for a few minutes, all avoiding the topic of the crash and managing instead to chat about work and weather as though everything was ordinary. It was, however, the weather that brought Sara's attention back to more immediate, pressing matters. When Grissom commented on the heat, Brass and Sara exchanged looks, both recalling the conversation they had had earlier, when things had been so ordinary and neither had had any idea of the disaster that lay ahead.

"I want to see," Sara said, out of the blue.

"See what?" Grissom asked, although deep down he knew to what she was referring.

"My leg. Or lack of it." She smiled grimly but the humour made them all feel uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?" Grissom asked.

She nodded, determined. She was fighting a mental battle with herself. Inside she could not have been less confident but she was determined to maintain an outward air of acceptance and composure.

"Maybe I should go," Brass suggested.

"No, you can stay," Sara replied.

"I really think I should leave," was the reply. Brass was already standing and halfway to the door. What he did not say was that he was leaving not for Sara but for his own sake. He could not stand to see the damage that he believed he was responsible for. There was no arguing with him and he left the room, saying he would go back to the lab to speak to the team and he would be back later.

Grissom and Sara were left alone. "Are you sure, Sara?"

Now she felt the need to be more honest. "No. But I have to face up to this, Grissom."

"Gil."

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Gil, Sara. It just doesn't feel right, you calling me by my surname. We're not at work."

Sara looked slightly confused but conceded. "Alright – Gil. Let me see."

Grissom stood up and gently began to pull the sheets back from Sara's body. She was wearing a hospital gown and looked horribly vulnerable. He paused for a second when he had revealed her body as far as her thighs. Glancing at her, he saw her nod. He continued to pull back the sheets. The sight was almost as great a shock to him as it was to her. Whilst her left leg lay normally on the bed, with one or two small bruises, her right leg ended at the knee; it was bandaged tightly into a neat looking stub. Grissom took a deep breath and turned to look at Sara. Her eyes were fixed on her leg.

"Sara?"

There was no reply.

"Sara, are you alright?"

There was a moment of silence before she spoke, a picture of calm. "I think you should go."

"Sara, it's alright. There's so much that can be done these days."

"I said go, Grissom."

"I told you, call me Gil."

Her face was beginning to flush. "Gil, Grissom, whatever. Just leave me alone."

Grissom was worried now. "Please, Sara, don't do this."

"GO!"

She was still staring at her leg, her face red with anger but still the picture of calm collection. Grissom slowly pulled the sheets back over her body and silently walked out.